I want new skin.
Some I want thicker,
Some I want thinner.

And I judge and am judged, and how I get angry because the ones who are judging me.
How you keep your heart open, and when I question the openess by the acts from history, I am mean and spiteful. I feel that I am, I know it.
I think with my head.
But it’s not that simple.
My thinking is emotions, My emotions are thinking, My moving is emotions, my touches are thinking. And true if we do divide, and we do, I think more than I feel. No I tell a lie, I’m more in my head than in my heart.
I’m lost with feelings because there’s so many. And in my feelings there is not a right way. And in my head there’s not a right way. Trick is to combine, or not to separate, me thinks/feels.

I am not worth of you. That is my problem, have been and still is. I don’t see myself as worth. Why would you, stay here. And because of something, I don’t want to be left. And I am left. we all are, I think.

So present comes from past and projects to the future. What I want now is what I want in future. And it’s rather helpfull, if you want to share that future, to have somehow, same intentions, same kind of view of relationship. What do you want from it.
I am here to open doors, you say.
I don’t carry your bag you say.
Even with all your love, I’m still not here to serve you.
I’ll help you as a friend, best I can, if you let me.
But I don’t want to get hurt, left when you get your doors open.
Get a locksmith.

We are never worth, there’s nothing to be worth with/of.
So what is worth to you?
And what is worth to me?

I feel lost in life. I want to be lost, it seems.
Hedonism married with wierd sense of responsibility is not an easy match.
I know what I want and that might be the problem, that I’m looking for it, asking is this it? maybe I shouldn’t, things come, things pass.
This will pass.
And that is the problem, I want something that doesn’t pass. That stays. And I know eventualy nothing will last. But for a glimpse that is life? maybe?

Maybe now
Maybe now
but how about tomorrow.

Yesterday I’m in an unknow appartment of someone I don’t know because someone I might now, if we would share the language, is staying there and we are there waiting for the train.
And we talk, with you.
and I go off into another room and play this song out of the guitar with same chords as always, with a slightly different melody and tell how things are, but you’re not there, some one else is.
And after I cry, because music can open some pathways I otherwise can’t. and it’s not just the music but the words as well. And afterwards I hope, I think, I should have recorded it, just because the lyrics. Because I think I can recall the chords and melody, but lyrics, no, I don’t think so. But I can always make new ones.

And you ask me questions, I though it was my job.
And I give you answers, which never was your job.
And I notice being, have been being, unclear yet again.

And I need to call you, just to see have I been unclear to you too.
I have not.
Oh how I love being able to communicate with words, to be understood, to be clear about my unclarity.

Again and again. Commitment, intension.
It’s not that I think, that I would think, that for sure it will work. It’s true, we never know. But I know that if the idea(l) is somehow similar, the understandment, it will have bigger posibilities. Why? because we’re on the same page, maybe not in same sentence but in same page. Not in totally different books.

When I write this, I ask to whom am I writing.
Valeria told me that, to myself. Vale, you were right I think, now. I always hoped that I would write this to someone who is interested, but maybe not. Maybe I am writing this to myself. Why do I make it public? Because then it’s real?
All of this is real, written or not.

I try to let go, of the words, of you, and my mind is going away and my heart is coming near. And another you is way too far.
Don’t think about replacing because nothing can ever replace.
Placement, where do I place myself.

I shed you like a skin, from my skin?
My skin heals, slowly, but it is healing. But I’m afraid that deep inside there’s still something which would mean another set of antibiotics. Not too happy about that. I’ll see tomorrow. How am I? My nose is blocked.

And when I was leaving the festival. I say goodbye to Masha. I love you, I love you too. I wish everything could be so honest and so simple.

I am not enough.
And when will I be?

Clean Cut

I feel I’m returning to old.
I think I was more open to the people in ibiza.
In meganom I closed down, kept myself to myself, partly because of the pain.
Partly because of something else, but not because of the people.

And in here? I’m still in slight pain, not much.
But I can’t dance so much and I basically refuse to dance with people I don’t know just because I don’t want more pain. And dancing is my main way to share and be open.

I think I’m bit off, outside, of the festival, but it seems to e going well. And people are super just like I said, so it’s not only the teachers group.

Today was underscore, in two spaces and outside between. Rather nice experience.
I even danced a bit.

But I’m jumping ahead.. or to the present so let’s tell tales from history.

After teachers meeting we had a performance, which was ok. After performance we go to the roof with Natasha and Sveta and Natash see my sores. She thinks it is good to cut the leg open so next day Sveta spends going to the otherside of moscow to get scalpel. On the evening we are here at the festival site (buddhist center) and Natasha cut my leg, It hurts surprisingly lot. Some anesthesia on the skin helps a bit. After it’s done something releases, maybe tension, maybe something else. They bandage me up. I lay on bed for a while. Then I go to the jam and dance with my doctor about twenty minutes. Shower and change of badages.

So all and all it’s going nicely. I’m in same doze as I was in Meganom. I sleepwakedream most of the time, but now I move more, and now I have internet and skype calls.

It’s late so I finish.

Festival is soon over, time passes, Like we do.

Circles, not perfect


In moscow,
Hot like… hell?

From ibiza I went to Kiev, there I noticed something in my head, scalp, then on my arm… and then pimple in my thigh I tried to squeeze.. Didn’t work out.
Left to crimea, Meganom.
No running water, no electricity, no toilets no showers.
But a spring near by, endless hot sun, hole in the ground, black sea.
But my sking go worse.
Three.. boils, infected, inflamed. Pushing out puss, blood, swollen.
Thank (insert your preferable deity here) Natasha is (was) a doctor. And Katja is visiting city, and you can get antibiotics without recipe in Ukraine (and in russia as well)
Finally antibiotics. 5 days behind, 6th just started. 7th is the last one.

And over there, I tried to go inside, to see what is it that I can’t push out so my skin needs to do it. And I don’t know. I know that everytime I talk anything serious with that ukrainian sweety I get mad. And I know that I have a pattern to long somewhere or someone else who is somewhere else. And I have some one to long for? And I don’t know do I long for because her or because it’s my pattern?

Dozing days in meganom, trying somehow, to dream to think to vision my way out of the pain, the burn. Waking up at nights sleeping at days. waveform, dream wake dream wake and reality becomes a mix. And I can’t really dance because those two places are so sensitive. In the beginning yes, on the first day. after that only few dances, mainly with people I know. Lovely dance with Mirva, and lovely talks through out the time there.

And I get so annoyed Ruslan going on about buddhism and his lama ole and diamond way. And I remember the pattern from teens… In congregation, to go against. And the most meaningful people there were always the ones who acted, not talked. And Ruslan keeps talking, Lama ole, But I can’t see the actions, Except hedonism. And I can’t see “be your own guiding light” because all I hear is lama. Not what he thinks. And I think, he doesn’t think. Ethics are way too hard and delicate, when we share no common language.
And I am angry. somehow, and I can’t express it because I have no real reason.
It’s just not the way I would like to follow and I don’t. And I envy that it seems to be so easy. To come and go and be forgiven.
Most meaningful people there were those who acted, not talked. And I talk.

I wanted something pure, Someone pure, But how when I am not pure. There is no purity.

And then it’s over. And I get so annoyed leaving, because people don’t use common sense.
Why it’s necessary to do things stupidly. And only second reason to suffer is that I am not well.

25 hours in train with Lior. I think we both slept most of it. I finish the Unseen Academics which is delightful. It’s pratchett, don’t think he would reinvent himself now.

And Moscow. hot moscow, going to some new people (maybe) there’s so many masha’s. And Asya takes me there, and no Masha but his brother Misha who is becoming a doctor. And he looks at my thigh and tells me that if I go to doctor I’ll be at least seven days in hospital because they will cut it open, and run through test, and I think. No. He also says that he thinks it’s possible to handle like I’m oing now. So good. If this turns to worse I head back finland.
And then yesterday evening. Polina gives me reiki. After it, Sasha comes and tells the trouble. My host Masha didn’t tell her parents (who are also living in the flat) that she going to host 3 people there, because parents should be out of town. But for some reason her mother is back and angry. Polina tells she can take me. So I go get my stuff, and I estimate the times and distances wrong. End up running from metro to masha/misha’s place. Running is so nice, and I wonder how I have so much stamina after and still being sick, not doing anything for 8 days. But I have, I can run.

Then there’s the teachers meeting, and VOW. I said that this is going to be really good festival. and this really will be. The group of teacher this year is so nice bunch of people. I like, and It’s difficult to dance, but I do dance, because I want to dance. Pain is there, but the joy out of moving overrules it easily.

My thoughts going on circles, what if what if what if. And again I have skype calls.
And somewhere in my mind count the passing time. An I don’t want this. I want to be where I am. But I want this, because there is something, more than just a feeling, possibility to talk, share thoughts by words, and I love words and to play with them.
My thoughts are words.

And I have to think and thank of Anatoli, who translated my sharing in meganom and I think no one else of the translators would have done it as good as him, mindmapping, or mindfucking according to Mirva. Well anyone can fuck anyway, but some reason not all of the people are able to mindfuck. I enjoy both… except, I would rather make love, in both ways.

Today on the meeting I wrote three highest of these

I will be alright.